


Mistletoe Merriment

by jack merridontme (luckystrike)



Category: Lord of the Flies - William Golding
Genre: Aged up characters, Christmas fic, Kissing, M/M, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 12:25:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2850779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luckystrike/pseuds/jack%20merridontme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack and Ralph have a little fun with the mistletoe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mistletoe Merriment

**Author's Note:**

> Behold my pathetic attempt at a christmas fic. (I actually wrote this last year but whatever haha)
> 
> Anyway, this takes place in the Merridews’ Christmas party after a snowball fight and also gathering firewood, ‘cause yolo.

After a long, hard day of frolicking in the snow and collecting wood, Ralph only longs to sequester himself in front of the fireplace, letting the warmth seep in his bones, the ever present chill that pervaded every fibre of his being ebbing away with each passing second.

Sitting in a cross-legged position around the hearth, the blond tilts his head back and closes his eyes, the relaxing sound of crackling flames filling his ears.

He barely notices when a blanket is draped all over him—nor when a certain redhead plops right next to him and whispers, “Hey, you.”

Ralph’s eyes snap open, yet he doesn’t even get a chance to blink when Jack shoves a cup of cocoa in his hands. He accepts it with a quiet murmur of thanks, raising it to his lips to blow the steam away.

For a few moments, all is silent. But with Jack Merridew, the moment never lasts long.

"You know, I’m getting the feeling that you love that fire more than me." He laughs lightly when Ralph winces after sipping the hot chocolate too early. He watches with amusement as the blond gingerly sets the mug aside.

"Well, it sure does a better job of keeping me warm," Ralph retorts, albeit with an unclear enunciation due to his scalded tongue. "Shoving snow in the back of my shirt? Really, Jack? _Really_?” He arches an eyebrow, his expression a curious cocktail of fondness and exasperation.

Jack doesn’t bother to reply to that last bit. “Oi, I brought you a blanket and a drink.”

"Oh, yes, because Jack Merridew only buys young boys drinks out of the goodness of his heart." A wry smile creases Ralph’s lips. "Besides, this is _Robert’s _blanket.”__

Jack raises an eyebrow. “Your point?”

"You took a blanket from a poor, hapless shivering child!"

"Oh, he’s definitely shivering, alright," Jack manages between snorts, "but it isn’t because of the cold." His eyes flicker to behind the Christmas tree which seemed to rustle every so often. It was also usually accompanied with a couple of moans and a few, _"Bill!"_ s that everyone was better off ignoring.

"Bloody hell, they’re still at it?" Ralph asks, brow furrowing slightly in concern. "It’s been like four hours at least? Last I checked, humans can’t go that long without air."

"Care to countercheck that theory of yours?" Even if Jack’s words weren’t of suspicious indication, his sly, husky tone makes Ralph turn.

"You didn’t." Slowly, he lifts his head to stare incredulously at the mistletoe hanging above the fireplace.

"That wasn’t there a while ago!" He aims a mock-accusatory glower at Jack’s shit-eating smirk. "You twat, you know perfectly well I’m the only one who ever watches the fire round here."

"Oh, I don’t know, Ralph, maybe some dastardly villain placed it there—my bet’s on Simon, really, I saw him stalking here a while ago—or maybe it was there all along; you just didn’t see it." Ice-blue eyes glimmering with merriment, he leans forward, consequently narrowing the distance between the two to mere millimeters. A hint of red tinges Ralph’s cheeks. "After all, it is hard to notice…" Suddenly, Jack’s nose wrinkles in distaste. "What’s hard _not_ to notice is this god-awful sweater of yours—”

"Finally, someone agrees," Harold exclaims, throwing his hands in the air.

"—you should really take it off," Jack continues, hands already fastened at the bottom ends of Ralph’s sweater.

Although Ralph does cry out _"Jack!"_ in his most scandalized voice, he does very little to stop the ginger from stripping him of this piece of clothing. In fact, he even wiggles a bit to help Jack take it off him.

Taking a step back to rove an appraising eye over his handiwork (over his Ralph), Jack hums in appreciation. There’s only one more thing to be done to improve the view.

"I think you should take this off as well," he says coyly, reaching towards Ralph’s shirt.

Flushing heavily, Ralph quickly pushes Jack’s wandering hands away. “Jack Alexander Merridew!”

Peals of hearty laughter erupt from Jack’s mouth as he tries to form a coherent sentence. “You should—” gasp “—see your face—”

He abruptly stops, though, the moment Ralph’s lips descend on his; in fact, the only sound that slips through his mouth is a surprised moan that Ralph seems to enjoy in earnest.

Eventually, Ralph’s former hypothesis is proven correct, and they reluctantly break apart for air.

Ralph heaves a dramatic sigh. “Whatever am I going to do with you, Jack Merridew?”

"Well," Jack drawls with a pointedly upward glance, "the mistletoe’s still there…"

Ralph doesn’t need to be told twice.


End file.
